


Dimentio Eradicates Covid-19

by Somewhatinsane555555



Category: Super Paper Mario (Game)
Genre: Anti lockdown, COVID-19, Controversial opinion, Feel free to debate me., Gen, I make emo crack or dark humor fics to deal with the pain., I've seen quite my share of death in life so feel free to talk., Implied Violence, No I am not an antivaxer nor conspiracy theorist, Non mainstream opinion, Other potiental violence warnings but not enough to warrant more then a general rating, Ready to be flamed, This whole story is basically a rant, Unpopular Opinion, Wrote this mostly to vent about what's going on in the world, abit of crack but also abit wholesome? so many emotions its hard to explain., kind of a covid-19 parody i guess? like south parks one ya know?, kinda political i guess? Idk, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26943667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somewhatinsane555555/pseuds/Somewhatinsane555555
Summary: Tired of the minions in castle Bleck cowering in fear over Covid-19, Dimentio decides to end the pandemic once and for all.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Dimentio Eradicates Covid-19

**Author's Note:**

> Attention for anyone reading this. The following work goes against traditional Covid-19 narratives. For many the idea of an option to handle covid by ways beside quarantine and social distancing is one that's hard to swallow. If this makes you uncomfortable then you are free to walk away. For anyone else who wishes to stay and read, I hope that even if you end up disagreeing, you will have understood the main reasons a non-conspiracisy theorist would have problems with lockdowns. Maybe I will change some minds, or simply be flamed anyway. I have decided that I simply don't care. Whatever happens, will happen, and I know that at least in my heart, I did what I thought was right even if it means I stand alone.

"L, you're like a fool who cannot express a violin's song, will you stop cowering in your lab and come out for a-"  
"No!"  
Mr. L screamed, breathing heavily as he slammed the door in Dimentio's face.   
Dimentio was not sure what to make of Mr. L's fear. The man was neither elderly nor vulnerable and yet he was locking himself away like an animal in a cage.   
"Its a beautiful day L."  
Dimentio sang, snapping his fingers to warp right through the door.   
"Death does not go away because the covid came to stay! Stop living in fear, come out, and play!"  
Mr. L backed into a corner, shaking his head.  
"Don't you care about grandma Dimentio?"  
Dimentio couldn't help but laugh.  
"Do you even have a grandma Mr. L?"  
Mr. L went quiet.  
"I don't know."  
Dimentio put a hand on Mr. L's shoulder to which Mr. L shrieked and slapped it back.  
"Are you trying to kill me Dim?"  
Dimentio slapped his hand onto his forehead.  
"My dear, I'm only trying to get you to live."  
He sighed, floating away.  
"Life is more than hiding fearfully in a cage."

* * *

"Oh, Mimi~"  
Dimentio called as he entered her room. He watched her rock back and forth in a corner.  
"I'm a murderer, I'm a murderer, I'm a murder-"  
She kept saying, repeating the words endlessly.  
Dimentio raised an eyebrow.   
"Dimmy, I-I did something horrible."  
She burst into tears, looking up at him.  
"I forgot to wear my mask around Countie and then I-I sneezed!"  
Dimentio scrunched his face together.  
"And then?"  
Dimentio asked.  
"He's gonna die Dimmy! All-cause I sneezed!"  
Dimentio shook his head, snapping his fingers to warp to O-Chunk's room next.

* * *

"Lad, getz away. Can't ya see ya closer to me den six feet?"  
Dimentio found himself growing more and more agitated. Yes, covid was quite the nasty thing but nowhere near the bubonic plague. He had never seen so much hysteria since he'd come out a thousand years ago as Trans, a fag, and very very gay.  
The Ancient Journalists loved to rag on him, calling him perverted and other dastardly names. He was never one to follow the crowd though. Unlike many, he had done his research on death and disease and knew that at least in flipside 640,000 people a year died of heart disease, mainly caused by morbid obesity. The media could scream 210,000 deaths all they pleased. Compared to the number dying of respiratory illnesses, it was quite on par with the normal respiratory death rate and wasn't worth the complete isolation of society nor all this fear.  
He took a deep breath finally ready to stand his ground.  
"O'Chunks-"  
Dimentio began, eying him curtly.  
"How does six feet away make sense when the air in castle Bleck is constantly recirculating itself through your room?"  
O-Chunks' eyes rose.  
"Lad, what ya trying to say?"  
Dimentio gave a loud sigh.  
"Ahaha, you know, I'm quite tired of this madness."  
Dimentio groaned preparing to snap his fingers again.  
He would get these idiot's back to normal. Even if it was through the most brutal of ways.

* * *

Floating right above Flipside he watched the crowd of masked zombies, walk mindlessly into corporate big box stores, while stupidly helping raise quite a few C.E.O's pay. His eyes turned to the essential workers, the ones the rich had declared they would finally abuse an enslave.   
It was a pity that there was nothing he could say to get through to the peasents. God forbid, he suggested the Flipsonains get on a treadmill and lose a few pounds to help lower the-HEART DISEASE AND COVID FATALITY RATE! The risk of covid death went down upon not being in the high BMI obesity range, or even in the mere overweight category for that matter. Seriously, what fool wouldn't encourage a national exercise campaign? Scientists were leading a national research effort on this, spending who knows how much for a cure to something with an infection fatality rate, that's at most half a percentage point for people under 70.   
And it wasn't like a soul had cared when his great aunt got pancreatic cancer. With ninetyish-percent of diagnoses resulting in death in less than five years, he truly would have appreciated a national research effort to save her life but alas, it didn't affect anyone important so naturally, no one cared.  
He felt his hatred grow harsher.  
Where had humanity gone? Was everyone such a selfish prick they wouldn't take a small risk to see their heavily depressed friend? Really, he knew this wasn't about the elderly for it hadn't been them but the government who declared everyone should be locked away out of hand. Grambi, forbid college students party in their dorms, and then chill out at the beach? Stars forbid, they went without masks. and maybe hugged kissed and grieved closer than six feet.   
He growled.   
And since when did quantity become more important than quality of life? What was the point of being alive if you can't touch, sing, adventure, or see your friends all because the media will shame you about how you made poor grandma dead.  
He clenched his fist.  
This virtue-signaling had got out of hand.  
Unlike the masses, he didn't need the tv to tell him when something was right, wrong, or bad.   
As the apocalypse raged on he lowered his shoulders in defeat, realizing what he had to do next was the only way.  
Waving his hands, he focused his magic to create a God-forsaken amount of flames.   
There were many screams as one by one the Flipsonians burned away. He would have felt sad, had they not been reduced to empty fearful husks but alas, he ended their lives because they simply weren't living anyway.   
As the charred bodies fell to the ground, and the media stations faded to nothing more than ash, he floated through the town. A mere ghost of what was.   
Clubs and karaoke bars had long been boarded up for fear of the covid and catching it on a summer day. Parks were closed down as children playing were not allowed because little kids were nothing more then super-spreader parasites that needed to be contained. And school, it was nothing but an online world where kid's tuned in wearing pajamas, only managing to listen to their mother beat their father for the fifth time that day. No longer having any refuge away from the crack dealers and gang-life that plagued them, little five-year old's spent most of their time online doing cocaine.   
There was no reason for Flipside to live on. These people had died the day they turned into mindless corporate slaves. When those who believed themselves to be in the resistance were on the media's side he knew genocide was the only way.   
Snapping his fingers, he returned to Castle Bleck, informing his coworkers he'd stopped covid and saved the day.

* * *

"Blech, Count Bleck is relieved, now my minions can get on with their day."  
Count Bleck wrote his reports silently, as Dimentio informed him he had successfully eradicated covid-19. He would also say he eradicated civilization but that would be giving him too much credit. They were all pretty much brain dead anyway.  
"Seriously Count Bleck is pleased with you Dimentio. Who is the government to say that I am too feeble to manage risk in my old age?"  
Dimentio gave a pleasant laugh at that. He himself was asthmatic but found himself quite insulted by how people believed he needed to be protected like some feeble child on their behalf.  
Still, he looked over to Nastasia, who appeared quite teary near the Count's side.   
"Nastasia are you ok?"  
Dimentio had asked, noticing her sadness.   
"My seventy-eight-year-old grand-mother."  
She began, her head lowering down.  
"Covid killed her yesterday Dimentio! She passed away!"  
Dimentio was silent, considering what words to say only for Count Bleck to put a hand on her shoulder.   
"Ahh, Nastasia truly you have my condolences."  
He looked at her gently.  
"I know it must be hard, honestly I lost my grand-mother at a similar age."  
Dimentio floated forward, also putting a hand on Nastasia's other shoulder.  
"Ah yes, my dear in my many years alive, I have been too many funerals. Over thirty to be exact. Every one of them never gets any easier."  
Dimentio then tilted Nastasia's forehead up to look at her.   
"My aunt's death hit the hardest. I constantly asked myself if I could have done more. If somehow I could have prevented her demise, like a superman rescuing his Lois Lane. Truthfully, it took me a long time to accept that death while cruel, comes for everyone in the end. With that said, please do not blame yourself, she wouldn't want you to believe yourself to be a murderer each day. She'd want you to enjoy life, and do mourn but don't let the grief of the many what-ifs constantly weigh on you day by day."  
Nastasia burst into sobs wrapping herself around Dimentio as she cried.   
Count Bleck clapped his hands. Truthfully he had never been more proud of the words Dimentio said.  
"Wonderfully said Dimentio!"  
Count Bleck grinned patting his back.  
"Nastasia, as the ruler of this castle, I'd like to say, that Dimentio and I will always be here for you. Do not worry about killing us, we are perfectly capable of handling ourselves and will always be by your side during this very tough time.  
Nastasia managed a weak nod. Dimentio then pulled back from her, turning his head to see Mr. L come into the room, although somewhat shakily.  
"Is it really true Dim?"  
Mr. L asked softly.  
"Has covid-19 really gone away?"  
Dimentio nodded and Mr. L couldn't help but run up and hug him.  
"L-er can't breathe."  
Despite his air supply feeling like it was collapsing within himself, he was proud to have Mr. L hug him again.   
While it took eradicating the zombie husks of Flipsonians and the full destruction of the corporate news networks, he had finally destroyed the new normal and returned the world to the way things were. Granted there were only six of them in this universe who remained but that was ok.   
He nestled deeper into Mr. L's shoulder.  
It was relief in his eyes that he found that with the end of the hysteria he, Nastasia, and Count Bleck would finally be able to grieve.   
Dimentio let a few tears fall from his own eyes as he sighed.  
The real disease was gone, and now they could start again, independent, ready, and willing to go their own way.

**Author's Note:**

> "-And so, in one form or another, the witch hunt goes. We hate people "because," we say, they are dirty, stupid, perverted, immoral.... They might be exactly what we say they are. Or they might not. That is totally irrelevent, however, because we hate them only if we ourselves unknowingly possess the despised traits ascribed to them. We hate them because they are a constant reminder of aspects of ourselves that we are loathe to admit.  
> We are starting to see an important indicator of projection. Those items in the environment (people or things) that strongly affect us instead of just informing us are usually our own projections. Items that bother us, upset us, repulse us, or at the other extreme, attract us, compel us, obsess us—these are usually reflections of the shadow. As an old proverb has it,
> 
> I looked, and looked, and this I came to see:  
> That what I thought was you and you,  
> Was really me and me.”  
> ― Ken Wilber, No Boundary: Eastern and Western Approaches to Personal Growth


End file.
